Imaginary Friends
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: People always say that destiny is changeable and that there is no set path in time. They're right. People also say that's it's completly up to you who you become. That not as accurate; sometimes you need a bit of a push, after all. Guardian!AU
1. Prologue

Once upon a time, some twenty-odd years ago, a little boy had two imaginary friends. Only his friends weren't imaginary, because his mum and a whole lot of other people had seen them, acknowleged they were there, and went on their merry way. Anyway, one day this boy met these two imaginary friends of his. His imaginary friends warned him about something that day. Warned him about what he would do, how it would happen. They told him that even though it was his choice, they knew him better. They knew he would do the right thing when the time came. He didn't understand then.

The little boy always seemed to attract bad things. From his best friend (another boy five years his senior) to even his mum (who wasn't much of a mum at all, leaving the boy to his own devices a good portion of the time), nothing went right from the boy. He was smart too, so he got teased at school a lot more than everyone else. It was obvious why he would be going down a bad road. Anger and hatred started bubbling up in him, and soon enough it would have to boil over.

Then, just about a year before that was supposed to happen, the not-so-imaginary friends showed up. They told him he would hurt people, kill them, when he got older. The boy was terrified. His friends gave him a shoulder to cry on and a way to contact them if he needed their help.

Barely thirty minutes after meeting them, his friends left. They said he needed them in another time and place, and rushed off. He barely got a chance to say goodbye.

Three years later, the boy was small and meek and trying so, so hard not to become who he was supposed to. But one of the mean kids on his block died that year. The boy didn't cause it directly - it was his older friend. He was scared and upset, so he locked himself in his room and called his imaginary friends. They were there in an instant, outside his window standing in front of what looked like a police box with tinted windows. He climbed out, latching onto his older friend and sobbing. It was all his fault, after all, and one death was just the first step and he'd go and go and…

His friends hugged him and calmed him and said that it really wasn't his fault in a way his mum never had. His mum _always _said it was his fault, and not once had she tried to right it later. The boy decided that his imaginary friends were really nice.

A couple days later, the boy met someone else on his block who would actually be his friend (the boy liked that word; friend). The other boy had sandy blond hair, wore jumpers that were always too big, and had an older sister who set up the clubhouse in the backyard and made it all nice. This blond boy wasn't scared of Jimmy, or freaked out by how smart he was. He just smiled in this way the other boy hadn't seen directed toward him in a very long time and asked if he would play. So they did.

Something bad happened though. Because of the boy's first friend, his new one got hurt. "Payback," said the teenager. "I warned you a long time ago, and now you've broken the rules." The blond boy got sent to the hospital with a concussion and an illness the doctor's couldn't figure out that seemed to right itself.

The boy called his imaginary friends again. It was two whole days before they came. He was scared and angry and shouted and shouted for them to just go away. They didn't listen. They would never listen. Instead, one of them picked the flimsy lock on the clubhouse door, and the other pulled him into a hug. And they stayed and let him cry it all out without a single word or comment, and neither of them questioned why he had a black eye and was wearing a sweater in the middle of July. The teenager got arrested for attempted murder and assault of a minor a few days later. The boy's imaginary friends stayed for nearly a week, and it was the longest the boy had ever been around them. He wasn't surprised when they left unexpectedly in the night. Why would anyone want to stay with him after all?

The boy's friend was able to leave the hospital soon after, and things went back to normal. They both healed, the boy's mum still mostly left him alone, and no one worried about the teenager next door anymore.

As years passed the boy became more and more shy. He was getting teased even more at school. People shunned him, called him a freak and stupid even though he got the highest grades in the class (not that they knew that). He started taking it to heart, and he wanted someone to talk to. He didn't call his imaginary friends, worried they wouldn't come.

Eventually his friend found the small rod with the blue button at the end. His friend had been getting worried. The boy (now a young teen) had been reclusive and jumpy, barely speaking at the best of times. So he pressed the button, hoping it was the same one that the boy talked about.

Both imaginary friend were there, once again, in an instant, asking what was wrong and who the blond was. He explained his worries to the two girls and they just sighed, shaking their heads, and off they went. He didn't know what the girls said, but his friend was better after that. Just a bit.

This went on for years, and the boy eventually became a young man, and the young man turned to an adult. He was shy and meek and often downplayed his own intelligence. A lot of the time he hated being as smart as he was, because being different was almost never good. But he had beat the odds. He didn't become who was supposed to. He didn't kill people or hurt them, and that was good.

This boy's name was James Moriarty (Jimmy to his friends), and this is how time was re-written.

{][**TBC**][}

**A/N: Good? Bad? What the hell was I thinking? Opinions are loved.**

**Okay, I've already got a few chapters done, but this is going all over this place. Really hoping this doesn't suck. :)**

**I'd like to thank Artifical Asian on FG for the idea for this. We started a mini RP (22 pages and counting), we changed time, and this is the after effect. Thanks dude. *peace***

**~Piki :B**


	2. Chapter 1

Allison and Kayley were the best. The best at what? They were Guardian Angels. Greatest team the Guardian world had ever known, which was the only reason they were allowed on the same cases when they were so young. Usually Angels were supposed to work with an older, more experiences Guardian before working alone, then possibly a partner. They were the exception.

It was a rather normal and slow day at the office, and the two of them were bored without an assignment. They had just finished up with a temporary (Gary Mitchell) in the mid twenty-third century, and they were hoping to go back to familiarity. Twenty-first century, of course, since it was where they had their first charge - a young English boy who was too timid for his own good. Now they were eager for someone new. Someone that would change the future. Despite their abilities, they had only been put on small cases, all temps. They weren't trusted enough yet for something big.

Or so they thought.

Their boss, Benton Sullivan, walked up to them, a large file clutched in his hand. Benton was a crotchety old man, his hair a dull grey and clad in nothing but old tweed suits and bowties. He could often be found with a pipe or a good cigar sticking out of his mouth, and no one knew what would kill him first; the smoking or his high blood pressure. Despite this he had been a good Guardian in his day, but that was long past. Being the big boss did have its perks though.

The graying man slammed the file on the desk, customary scowl flickering on his face. "New case, your first permanent. James Moriarty, age thirty in 2010. Has a crime syndicate. All started in 1989, he killed another boy on his street. You need to fix it, make sure it doesn't happen. This kid's really f- sorry- _screwed_ up. Bad childhood, distant mother, taunts from other student, no friends. Fix him, fix time, and make sure he won't destroy the world." Kay blinked, picking up the file with interest.

"He'll destroy the world?" She asked curiously, checking the picture on the file. "Doesn't look like he could."

Ally nodded, glancing over her partners shoulder. "He looks like my little cousin. Only, you know, in adult form,"

Benton's scowl deepened. "Youth…" He sighed. "He doesn't destroy the world, he nearly takes it over from the London underground but ends up dying. The syndicate disperses and it ends up fine eventually, but a lot of lives would be spared if we stopped the syndicate before it starts."

The two friends nodded, standing up and giving their boss a proper military salute, as per usual, and walked off. Ally smiled at her partner, heading off into the parking lot outside the government building. She stopped outside a blue police box, hand pausing just above the handle.

"Do you wanna take the time machine this time, or do you wanna be normal and take the Guardian tube?" She asked, giving her friend a questioning look.

Kay shrugged in response. "Tube'll take forever. Even if time is on our side, we've been bored lately. Time machine."

The younger Angel smiled, and opened the door of the police box.

{][][}

Before we continue it might be helpful to go into some Guardian Angel 101.

Guardian Angels were originally exactly what they sounded like; they were Angels sent down from the Heavens to protect important people. People who would change the future. People who _could not_ get hurt. They weren't allowed to change the past back then. Times changed.

Sometime around the sixteen hundreds, the Angels almost died out. The last of their kind buried their technology -time machines and the like mostly- far away from where anyone would ever find it. From where anyone would have found it in the time period. But, as mentioned, times change. Eventually the British parliament was built there, and an underground department was added after the tech was found and figured out (this took quite some time). With it they were able to find the last of the Guardian Angels, who happened to be half human. A man by the name of Benton Sullivan. He was ninety-three, still in his prime, with three children, five grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Life was good at the time.

The British Government looked through the tech and found a book. The book detailed exactly what the purpose of the Guardian Angels was, and how they went about it. It went down hundreds upon thousands of years of traditions. This was what the new Angel department was founded on, with Sullivan at the head. They had agents going forward and backward in time, seeing who needed to be changed and who needed to stay safe. They were the Seekers. There were the agents that went through with this, going forward and backward in time as needed. Those were the Guardians, obviously. (They were allowed to change the past, present, and future now. That was one rule that had bee demolished.) There were also the agents that handed out assignments, the Old Timers. In the beginning days there weren't any of these. Instead the government just controlled the Angels unit.

Since the Angels were near extinction, they hired humans. Not just regular old humans, of course. These were humans with Angel blood in them, going far down the line. Humans with _power_. Nothing special, of course, but they were the only ones who could use the time machines properly, along with all of the other Angel technology. Other than that, they seemed completely normal. And it was statistically more likely for someone with Angel blood to live longer, but not by much.

In the year we're at with Ally and Kay it was 2121. Reginald Holmes (son of former British government Mycroft Holmes) had just stepped down frown his position of representative of the Angels project. It had fallen back on Sullivan for the third time in a century. Of course, he was pissed about it (again), but said nothing to leader of the government (Elizabeth Morstan was the current "man behind the curtain"). Instead he grumbled to himself about not getting time to spend with his great-great-great-great-great-great grandkids and handed out assignments like candy.

Not a lot had changed in two hundred years. The Angel Unit was still in jeopardy of being dispersed if it lost it's usefulness, the Guardians were still young and cocky, the Seekers still kept to themselves, and all the tech was the same, right down to the time machine's "hidden" function. (This basically transformed the time machine in to anything you wanted it to be with the same basic functions, though depending on what it was it lost a lot of space. Whether it be a DeLorean of a blue police box, the common time machine could become it.)

And that brings us (somewhat) up to speed on what the Guardian Angels are.

{][][}

Back with our top Guardian Angel team, Ally pressed a few of the buttons on the time machine's (affectionately named 42 by the owners) control panel, warning her companion of the bumpy ride in store. One again, the parking brake was stuck. It happened far more than was strictly tolerable, but the two didn't have the heart to ask for a new one. In the few years they'd been working for the Angel unit they had only worked with 42 other than the odd tube ride, so they were happily adjusted.

In barely a minute 42 firmly stopped, making an odd groaning noise as it did so. The two teenagers looked at each other, smiling. It was time to meet their new charge.

"I'll grab the ID's; you change us up to a car?" Kayley asked, brown eyes smiling at her friend. Ally nodded, walking off to a different room.

Another moment later. Kay walked back into the control room. Despite taking the shape of a police box, the time machine was actually incredibly large on the inside. It had seventeen bedrooms, ten separate bathrooms, three kitchens, two libraries, a pool, two ballrooms, and the control room. This was a rather old addition, added soon after the Angel unit began. This was mostly because most Guardians practically lived out of their time machines, and even more brought friends and family along for the ride. As the Angel unit got larger, so did the time machines. It was something the higher ups were ever frustrated with.

Ally walked back out, rushing for the door. Kay took this to mean that they had about five seconds before 42 suddenly condensed into the size of the common car and, depending on ones area, the two of them could be squashed into the engine. So the two of them ran, narrowly escaping what could have been a very painful death for the third time that week.

St. Peter's Road was relatively silent. A family was moving in across the street of where the car was parked, and a young boy skateboarded past every once in a while, but other than that it was quiet. Unsurprising, really. Crawley was a rather small town, after all.

Kay scanned the area, checking the ID's she had grabbed. It said they were interns at the British government for some special children's development unit no one had ever heard of. One flash and they should have been able to get inside. A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Who's the man behind the curtain in this year?" Ally's brow furrowed. She was never good with Guardian Angel history.

"Sherringford Holmes, I think. After him Mycroft Holmes. Why?"

"Mycroft Holmes… He'll double as running our unit, right?"

"Yeah. Seriously though, why?"

"Good to know which boss you're working under."

Ally laughed.

"We're under Sullivan though." Kay winced.

"Lucky us…"

They laughed, walking up to the door with a nonchalant yes professional air. That was always the best way to start these things when your charge was a child. Nonchalant for the child, professional for the parent. If Jim's mother, Mrs. Hartford, was even home. The woman worked two jobs to support herself and her son, and spent most of her free time sleeping. That was another contributing factor they would have to fix; Jim feeling neglected. That was probably a huge part of it, but they would have to deal with that later.

Ally was the one to reach the door first, having always had longer strides despite being the shorter of the two of them. She went up to the door, knocking in a slightly musical pattern around various areas of the door until it was opened. A young boy of seven opened it, one dark eyes peeking from behind the wood. Dark locks fell over the thin glasses he wore, effectively covering part of the lens.

The wide eye blinked, staring up at the Guardians. "Who're you?" The Irish-tinted voice asked, raised a bit in pitch than might have been normal. Kay smiled warmly down at him, flashing the ID briefly.

"We're with the government." She said, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial tone. "We're here to see Jim Hartford about important business. Do you know him?" The Irish boy's eyes lit up, and he opened the door with a grin.

"That's me!" He said excitedly. "Come in. My mum'll be home in 'bout an hour though, so you need to go by then." He smiled innocently at them, and without another word the two Guardians followed their new charge. He seemed his own age, though intelligence shone in his eyes. Maybe this could work. Maybe they could change this young boy's life.

Jimmy led them through the small, one story house until they reached his room. It was pretty barren. No posters on the walls, not even a calendar, and the only things occupying the space were a twin bed, the door of the closet, and a small bookcase crammed full of textbooks on varying subjects. Ally and Kay weren't sure if it was by choice, or if Mrs. Hartford simply didn't have the time or money to buy things for her son. They decided not to dwell on it.

The young boy plopped himself up on the bed, legs swinging slightly over the edge. His smile remained even through the silence as the Angel unit workers tried to figure out their game plan. Jim just waited patiently. Most of his teachers were silent for a long time before they talked to him at school, so he was used to it.

Finally, after several long minutes of sharing looks, and therefore thoughts, they looked back to the seven year old, still waiting patiently on the bed. Kayley was the one who spoke, pushing her slightly frizzed brown hair out of her eyes. "Jimmy," she said eyes dead serious. "We're going to ask you a few questions. I want you to answer truthfully, no matter how stupid I sound or you think you'll sound, okay?" Jimmy nodded, confused. "Good. Now Jim, I want you to tell me about your friends, okay?"

With the most adorably cute look on his face, Jim did. "I don't have a lot of friends…" He began slowly. "I mean, one or two. There's Seb next door, I guess. And my pet snake, Hyde." He smiled, and the two Angels took a brief moment to let themselves be disturbed by that information. There were two distinct reasons they were disturbed, as you can imagine.

1. _Hyde_? The young boy picked the evil alter ego of Dr. Jekyll? _Really_?

2. Jim had _read_ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? At seven? What the _hell?_

They allowed themselves to revel in this new knowledge, blinking rapidly and staring at the dark haired boy before them. Jimmy fidgeted uncomfortably, vaguely wondering if he had done something wrong.

"Moving on…" Ally said, clearing her throat quietly. "Anyone you don't particularly like, Jimmy? Anything you wanna do to them?"

"Carl Powers," Jim said immediately, a dark look settling over his slim face. "He's so _stupid_ and he doesn't _get it_! The kids at my school are pretty bad, but he's worse than all of 'em combined!" He calmed down within second of his outburst, a façade of unaffected cool coming to his features. "Why are you asking stuff like this? The government doesn't need to know…"

"Yeah, we do, Jim-boy," the younger of the two said nonchalantly. Jim looked up in surprise at the nickname. Seb had called him that once. Whenever Seb called him something other than "Jimmy" he didn't usually let other people say it too. He kind of hoped Seb wouldn't find out, just a little. If he did these people might get hurt. Seb was twelve, and his parents were chemists. It was something he liked to gloat about a lot, and Jimmy could never figure out why.

He recovered himself quickly enough, but the awkward silence still hung in the air for a minute before he spoke. "_Why_ does the government need to know? What makes me so important?"

There was clause in the contract. Not just a contract, _the_ contract. The contract that all Guardians signed when they started up. The contract itself wasn't filled with anything legal or some such - It was one to three pages long depending on who was doing the signing. But in that contract it clearly stated that no charge should ever find out about the Angel Unit. Ever. Under any circumstances.

Except within that paragraph there was a clause. In the fine print that no one bothered to read, of course. The clause went as follows:

**There is one exception to this rule. If the charge is permanent and/or world changing in a big, BIG way, it is possible to tell them about the Angel Unit in some context. Make up a lie for it. Saying you're a time traveler often works best, especially if your charge is a Doctor Who (see: 1963-?) fan.**

Oddly enough, Kay had read the fine print. It was the only reason she had allowed Ally to turn their time machine into an essential TARDIS with a working Chameleon Circuit. (She, personally, never really like Doctor Who.)

Of course, Ally hadn't, so she just looked to her friend with a pleading look.

Kay glanced over her shoulder out the door, before turning back to Jimmy. "We're time travelers." She whispered, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "We're from the future. You ever seen Doctor Who?" Jimmy nodded eagerly. "We're like that. Go back, change time, and re-write it in to something good. A lot of people do. We picked you."

It was with this that Jimmy's face scrunched up in confusion again. "Why me? What am I gonna do that's gonna be so bad?"

The older girl sighed through her nose, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder. "You're going to do some bad things when you get older, Jimmy. Terrible, terrible things. We're going to stop that from happening."

Jimmy glanced down at the ground, biting his lip. "What kind of things?" He asked quietly.

"You're… you're gonna hurt people, Jimmy." Ally said, sitting up beside the young boy on the bed and wrapping and arm around his shoulder. "A lot of people. And you won't get stopped until you've done a lot of damage all around the world. We don't want it to come to that."

She felt Jimmy twitch, then start shaking. She pulled him closer, Kay's hand staying ever present on the thin shoulder as he cried.

"People can be mean and cruel and downright awful, Jimmy, but you need to ignore them. I know you're gonna want to get mad and hurt them back, but you can't okay? That's the first step." Jimmy nodded, fruitlessly wiping the tears from his eyes. "Good boy."

As Jim quieted down, Ally took something from her back pocket. It was small and silver, with a green light on one end and a blue button on the other, and somewhat shaped like a screwdriver handle. She tucked it in to Jimmy's hand.

"Press that button whenever you need us, of even if you just need to talk, okay Jim-boy?" Jimmy nodded, and Kay's cell phone started buzzing. She took the small device out, flipping it open. She mouthed something to Ally, who mouthed back. Jimmy would have tried to follow, but he couldn't read lips. He was working on it though, and he thought he saw the word need.

Kay stood up suddenly, as did Ally. "We need to go," they said in unison, and made for the door. It had barely been half an hour.

"Wait!" Jimmy said, stopping the two in their tracks. "What are your names?"

The younger Guardian turned around, smiling at the young boy. "Allison and Kayley, and that's all you need to know about that." She winked, and like that she was out the door.

{][][}

**A/N: Well, that's chapter two. I think that's the longest thing I've written for this fandom... Yay. Hope it wasn't too choppy. I'd been working on it on and off for a few days, so I wouldn't be surprised...**

**Anyway, reviews are loved. ^_^ Seriously, I love to know what you people think of my writing.**

**~Piki :B**


	3. Chapter 2

Three years. He went on for three whole years without incident.

Things had been happening, of course. Three years was a _long time_. Jimmy was getting better, or better in his own mind. He was quiet in class, and really did try not to annoy the other kids so they wouldn't make fun of him (though that seemed to make them tease even more). He even tried making friends! Seb stopped that though. Seb was always possessive over everything. Books, toys, people… Anyway, a lot changed in three years. There was even a new kid in his class after Ally and Kay left - John Watson. They didn't talk, but he seemed nice enough. Jim was more worried about Seb though.

Then, when Jim was ten years old, an older student at his school drowned while in London. He had a fit in the pool, and by the time they got him out it was too late. A tragic accident, they said. Jimmy knew better, because the boy that drowned was Carl Powers, and Carl had been murdered. Carl had been killed _by_ Jim.

It wasn't direct, but Jim still knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have complained to Seb about getting in a fight on his way home. Seb was smart Jim and really didn't like it when people messed with Jim.

Jim thought of it like having an older brother.

Seb thought of it like having a pet because, since Jim's change in behavior, he could take over. He _did_ take over. And Seb didn't like it when other people played with his pet, and certainly not when other people hurt his pet.

(Although relevant, that was beside the point.)

Jim had come home on that particular day, finding that Seb was already waiting for him on the front porch to "baby-sit". The teen asked where he got the black eye, so Jim told him. He had been teased by Carl, _again_, so Jim burst out and told him that his parents were having an affair. After that Carl punched him -got in a few other hits too- and walked off with what little money Jim carried on his person. He shrugged it off and went back in the house to do homework, thinking that was that. Foolish little Jim. It was never like that when Seb was involved, and his parents were _chemists_.

So when Carl Powers died, Jim knew he had caused it. Because if he hadn't told Seb, Seb wouldn't have poisoned Carl, and Carl wouldn't have had a fit in the pool. Because Jim complained about a few bruises, another boy _died_.

In that moment, Jim realized that's how the universe seemed to go. He was born, so his dad left. He started talking, so his mum became more distant. He started thinking, and he got into fights. He tried to be good, and Seb all but took over. He complained about a few cuts and scrapes, and a boy _died_. There was no winning, and line between the losers was blurred beyond recognition.

He shook the thoughts from his head, wiping at tear-filled eyes, when he saw something sort of glowing on the desk,

Of course, the item itself wasn't actually glowing, but the way the light caught the green bulb and handle it looked like it was. The object was small, with a button on one end and a light on the other, and in the shape of a screwdriver handle. It was Jim's one and only way to call Ally and Kay. Somewhere, in some part of his mind, he dully realized that that point in time was why his time traveling friends had left suddenly when he was seven.

Obviously he wasn't paying much attention to that part of his mind as he pressed the blue button.

There was some sort of sound from outside the window. Not really a _thrummmm_, but not quite a _woooshhh_ either. Something odd in-between, which was neither annoying nor pleasant. Around neutral in everything, really.

A scuffle from outside, a quick "why did you change it back?" from a confused and familiar voice, and then tapping at the window. Jim rushed over, flinging open the glass. He blinked, trying to calm himself down a bit, and looked down at his friends (were they his friends? They barely knew him after all…). He cocked his head to one side and blinked again. When they said they were time travelers he didn't think they meant Time _Lords_. Well, they probably weren't, but it was nice to think, wasn't it?

Because just outside his window, behind his friends, was a TARDIS. Or a TARDIS imitation. Either way it was a bright blue police box that could travel through time.

He crawled out the window slowly, glancing back to make sure his mum didn't check on him. There were few times when she actually had, other than when he was really little -she hadn't even noticed how he'd changed- but sometimes she did. Once in a while.

As he scrambled down from the second story window he felt himself slip. Before he could tell what was happening he was falling and falling. For a brief moment he wondered what death would feel like. Would it hurt? Would he die quickly, or would he there, immobile, while he bled out? Would anyone even care if he died? That he knew the answer to: probably not.

_Is this what Carl felt like, drowning in the pool?_ He thought dimly.

Knowing he was seconds from death, Jim closed his eyes and felt the tears streaming from his eyes. This was what he deserved. He had killed Carl Powers, so he shouldn't live. That was the way it was supposed to work, right? You killed, you went to prison, and then you were dead on the inside. This was just more permanent.

Suddenly, there were a slim pair of arms around him, and Jim was aware he was sobbing into cloth instead of the cold grass. Thin, long fingers ran through his hair. "It's okay, Jimmy," Kayley whispered. "You're fine, you're just fine. What happened, Jimmy? Can you tell me why you called?"

"S-sorry." Jim whispered into the dress shirt. He's not sure if the stutter is from the hitching breath, or if it's just the one he'd been acquiring as of late. "I-I'm s-s-sorry. I d-didn't mean-n t-t-to. I-I didn't-t want-t h-him to d-d-die."

Ally gave her companion a worried look, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder. "It's okay, Jim-boy. We know it wasn't your fault." She paused. "Can you tell us what happened? You don't have to, but it might help us understand better."

"C-C-Carl d-died and I-I killed h-him." The young boy responded, waiting for the call to the police or his mum.

"Did you kill him or did someone else, Jimmy?" Kay asked, her voice soft and gentle and not at all accusing like Jimmy thought it would be. There was no beeping of a phone, or disbelief, or even the fully expected disgust. All there was, was a quiet comfort. It didn't make any sense, and he just cried harder.

"S-S-Seb-b," he said brokenly. "B-but I-I-I had-d him."

The two Guardians looked at each other. "No you didn't Jim-boy. I'm sure you didn't. Did you specifically asked Seb to kill Carl?" Jim shook his head, choking on a sob. "Then you didn't kill him, Jim-boy. It wasn't your fault. Seb killed him, not you, okay? You have done _nothing_ wrong. Not one little thing, you understand me? Tell me you understand, Jim-boy. Tell me you _didn't_ kill Carl."

Slowly, Jim nodded at the younger teen, burying his face into Kay's shoulder. "I-I didn't-t kill C-Carl." He said without much conviction. "I-it was-sn't my-y f-f-fault." How could it not be his fault though? To the very least some of the blame fell on him after all, of that he was sure. He wouldn't say that though. Ally was just trying to help; she didn't know. She _wouldn't_ know. Not any time soon.

He felt himself going lower, Kay's arms still wrapped protectively around him as she sat down. He more heard than felt Ally kissing the top of his head in a comforting gesture, and he kept crying. Oddly, neither of them seemed to mind,

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't go."

"Never, Jim-boy. We'll be here as long as you need us, and even when you don't." He wasn't sure who said that, but assumed it was Ally. Kay didn't call him 'Jim-boy', after all.

They stayed like that for along time.

{][][}

**A/N: :/ Not sure I liked this one. Maybe it's because I typed it "properly" instead of hunt and peck. (took forever and a day, that way of typing. Never really used it before, so I'm not used to it. I much prefer hunt and peck. Agree?) Or maybe it's just because this chapter is so darn short. We'll never know.**

**Anywho, you know what to do. Press the magical green button and make my day. ^_^**

**(Also, I'd like to thank anyone who faved or put this on their alert list even thought they didn't review. Always nice to know you have an audience, even if they are silent.)**

**~Piki :B**


	4. Chapter 3

Whereas the first time took three years, the second time took eight days.

After the whole_ thing_ with Carl Powers, Jim tried his hardest to forget the sound of wind whistling in his ears and soft words whispered in his ear. On the first day he went down to the local pool, because swimming had always calmed his nerves no matter the circumstances. He swam and swam and just kept going. He was fast; faster than most boys his age. Only in the water though. It would have been nice to run like that when bullies chased him.

During this swim, which Jim assumed he would be left alone for because no one came to that pool on Friday's (something about a curse and haunting, though he wasn't sure), the padding of wet feet on tile could be heard. Jim had stopped, blinking owlishly at the figure before him.

It was another kid, still fully dressed. He had sandy blond hair and huge hazel eyes. The jumper he was wearing was too big (hand-me-down from and older sibling), and his jeans were stained beyond recognition of ever being a pure blue. The other boy blinked back at Jimmy before smiling.

"You're Jimmy, right? The uber smart kid that lives across from me?" He asked, head cocked to one side. Jim felt himself blush and started swimming again. His chances were already ruined. John (because of course it was John from across the street) knew he was smart, knew he was a _freak_. Jim knew from experience that no one wanted to be friends with a freak. John would be no different. So he went back to swimming and pretending the world didn't exist. He pretended, for one moment, that Carl hadn't died and he hadn't killed him and that Seb wasn't watching his every move. Always.

And for a second he forgets how much it _hurts_ to be alone.

Then, as loud as the fire alarms at school, there was a shout and a giant splash in the pool and Jimmy was sinking and he couldn't figure out why.

Dark eyes snapped open and the younger boy gasped, water filling his lungs. His vision blurred and he couldn't move out of pure panic. Finally there seemed to be karmic retribution. He wasn't all that surprised.

Just as suddenly as going underwater he was back to the surface, a hand patting his back as he choked out the water. "I'm so sorry!" Why was John apologizing? "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to, you know, dive in. I didn't think you'd be there. Are you all right?" He gave a lopsided sort of smile, which was actually more of a grimace. Jim just stared at him, confused. People didn't usually ask him if he was "all right". The teachers didn't when they saw bruises, his mum didn't when she heard him crying, and other student certainly never cared. Everyone just sort of expected him to be fine. He was quiet and he got good grades, so surely there was nothing wrong?

He must have done something to respond, because John was giving a doubtful look. "You sure you're okay, mate? I mean, if you're not I could take you home…"

"N-n-no!" Jim said suddenly, pushing himself away from the older boy. Going home meant he had to _think_. "I-I'm fine."

John swam over to him, brow furrowed, and placed a hand on his forehead. Jim stiffened under the contact, but still allowed himself to be taken out of the pool.

"I don't think you are, mate." John said softly. "I'll ask my dad take us back to my house. A good cuppa'll help. A good cup of tea solves everything, that's what mum says." He smiled, drying himself off with his towel and putting on the jumper and the jeans, before going back to Jim, who hadn't moved an inch.

_He's nice_. He thought, shivering in the cold air. _A lot more mature than anyone in class. Kind of like Seb. Except Seb wouldn't do this. He'd prob'ly get upset. Why isn't John getting upset?_

"Wh-why are you c-c-calling me mat-te?" Jim asked as John wrapped the towel around him, which didn't make any sense either. Nothing John did made sense.

John shrugged, leading him back to the door of the pool. "Don't know your name. Should've asked though…" He trailed off, a bright smile crossing his face. "Besides, we're mates, right?"

Jim honestly didn't know how to respond to that. People didn't want to be his "mate". Not usually. So he just shrugged and tried to distance himself from the situation. It would just be disappointing in the end anyway. John would see how weird he was even though Jim would try to hide it, and then they would stop being friends. It was simply how things worked.

Apparently, there were exceptions to every rule.

After returning to the Watson residence Jim had found the family decidedly odd. In a good way, of course. John had an older sister named Harry who, being three years older than John, had already dated three girls in her class. When she was younger she would mutilate her dolls and now that she was older read crime novels. She dressed in a "goth" sort of way, with her nails painted blood red and her hair dyed black. She had teased the two of them, but not in the way Seb did. More in a nice way, which Jim hadn't thought was possible.

Their mum and dad, who had been out at the time, worked as a doctor (for Mrs. Watson) and a reporter (which was Mr. Watson). Mrs. Watson worked in poor countries with the Red Cross, though Mr. Watson stayed local.

John himself… John was brave and stood up for Jim several times after they became friends in a way no one ever had. He spent most of his time out in the clubhouse in the backyard (which had a lock on the door, which had been installed by Harry) or reading. He was really smart and, though sociable at school, didn't have a lot of good friends. More like acquaintances, which only confused Jim more. If John could be friends with anyone he wanted, then why did he pick Jim? It was probably the oddest thing about John; he didn't shun oddities in people, it made him like them more.

When Jim questioned this all the blond had done was shrug. "Cookie cutters are boring. I like people who mold the dough themselves."

Years and years later, Jim still didn't quite understand that.

Because of Seb they didn't spend a lot of time together, though John didn't get why. Jim tried to keep John a secret, but as always Seb found out. Seb always found out, and being friends with Harry helped.

The two of them had been talking at John's house. Not doing anything in particular, just talking, though Jim didn't do much of it. The more he talked the harder it was to hide what a freak he was, and then John would definitely leave. John had seen a bit, but certainly not the full extent, and he probably never would. He would move on long before that.

The door burst open, and Seb was standing there. Seb was tall, even for a fifteen year old, at nearly six feet. He had shaggy brow hair that always fell into cold blue eyes and he was strong. He had a short temper which seemed to combine perfectly with his possessive streak.

The following events were a blur. All Jim could make out was that Seb walked over, growling about "rules, James" and raised his hand and suddenly John was the one against the wall. He was injected with something and fell limp to the floor, and Seb walked out. All Jim could think about was Carl, drowning in the pool.

What could have been minutes or hours or days later, Harry walked in, having heard the noise. She called 999, and John was taken to the hospital with a concussion, a mysterious illness that cleared itself up after twelve hours, and a sprained ankle.

Jimmy cried a lot that night, and even called Ally and Kay back. Unsurprisingly, they didn't come that day. Or the next. By the third day after police and questions and suspicious looks he locked himself up in the clubhouse in the back yard. It was the only place where it was quiet. Police questions didn't exist there, or the hurt look on Harry's face. All that was in there were spiral notebooks (all filled by John some time ago) and an orange blanket that John would always spread himself across when they talked.

Breath hitching every few seconds, Jim took that blanket and wrapped himself in it and just cried. Just like Carl dying, this was all his fault. He realized, logically, that Seb had been the one to put John in the hospital, but he also knew that if he hadn't gone back to John's house they wouldn't have become friends at all and it all could have been avoided. Once again, it was Jimmy's fault.

There was a knock, loud and echoing in Jim's ears. "Jim-boy," Ally's voice said from behind the wood. "Can we come in?"

_Why'd they even come?_ Jim thought angrily. _Why did they come back?_

"Go away!" He answered, not a tremor or stutter in his words. There was a moment of shocked silence, then the door handle started moving. Not a lot, but it rustled and it didn't take much for Jim to realize they were picking the lock. He buried himself under the blanket, hoping they would understand. In seconds the door was open and the same slim pair of arms were wrapped around him.

"You called?" Kay asked with the slightest of smiles that wasn't really fitting for the situation.

"Two days ago!" Jim replied, trying to wriggle out of her arms before he started crying. Well, crying harder. Tears were already falling down his pale cheeks.

Kay winced, wrapping her arms around his tighter. "We're sorry, Jimmy. The time machine was temperamental and the parking brake slipped. We would have been here sooner, I promise, but we couldn't go back." Soft fingers were running through his hair in a comforting way.

"Tell us what happened, Jim-boy."

So he did, sobs hitching through his voice every few seconds. Neither of them seemed to care much.

{][][}

Some time later, Jim stopped crying. His head was still buried into Kay's shirt, and Ally's fingers were still threading through his hair, but the room was enveloped in a comfortable silence.

"Why don't we go see John?" Kay suggested. Jim shook his head, giving her a pleading look.

"H-he'll be mad-d at m-me." He said quietly, brown eyes wide. If he could put off the end of the brief friendship he would. John was nice, but after something like that he would start acting like everyone else, no matter how excepting he had been.

The younger Angel tsked quietly. "No he won't, Jim boy. You said he was your friend, and friends don't get mad at each other over things like that. He was protecting you; he knew he might get hurt."

With that, she looked to her partner and promptly whisked Jim off to the hospital, going directly to John's room (after asking the front desk, of course). Eventually Jim came down from his shell shocked position on her back, walking beside her. He shook the whole way there, keeping his eyes solely on the floor. By the time they reached room 221 he could barely stand because his legs were shaking so badly. Ally opened the door for him, staying out in the hall.

"Jimmy?" Jim winced, walking slowly into the hospital room. "Jimmy!" John exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. "I was wondering when you'd come by!" Looking up sharply, Jim blinked. The room was empty except for the two of them, though there was a cup of hot tea on the table that was probably Mr. Watson's. He, like most everyone in the Watson family, almost always had a cup of tea in his hand. Like John said when they first met, a good cup of tea solved everything. Maybe it really did, because John looked fine.

"Y-you're not mad?" Jim asked in amazement, glancing back down at the white tiled floor.

Cocking his head to one side John frowned a little. "'Course not, Jimmy. Why would I be? From what dad told me I was protecting you. That's what friends are for, right?" Jim gave him a shaky smile.

"I-I-I guess so." He answered nervously, pausing a second before his brow furrowed. "What-t do you m-mean "from what my-y dad told-d me"?" John went right back to smiling, his hazel eyes sparkling.

"Don't remember a thing of what happened!" He said with that ever-growing smile. "Bad for the police, I guess. Dunno what happened. All I know is that I got knocked on the head and now I don't remember a thing" Jim smiled weakly back and wondered if they would still be friends if

John remembered.

Months later, when he was put up to testify against Seb, he thought the answer would be no.

Years later he would find himself wrong.

{][][}

**A/N: Woot! Two more chapters left everybody! Is anyone surprised? I certainly am. Last chapter's already written too. The next one... not so much. He he.**

**Oh, and poll on my profile asking about a sequel and such. *waves hand* Vote if you wish, or say if you want one or not in a review. Whichever.**

**~Piki :B**


	5. Chapter 4

Despite everything John had been taught through his childhood, a good cup of tea did not in fact solve everything. He had always known there would be some instances which a cuppa simply could not help, but he always figured it could work with almost everything.

Apparently anything relating to Jim fell under the category of "almost". Not that that was surprising, really. It was Jim. Jim didn't conform to social norms. Well, he more tried to fade into the background than anything else, but that was beside the point. The main point is that, when Jim is involved, a cup of tea simply does not work. With Jim a cup of tea is meant for friendly chats and convincing him (for what must be the hundred time) that the people at school were just gits and there was nothing wrong with him.

After the "Seb" incident that John still didn't know the details of Jim seemed absolutely convinced that John would get up and disappear at any second. It eased through the years, and by the time he was fourteen it was a non-issue, but it was still there. In the way he talked (when he actually talked that it), in how he kept a bit closer to John than absolutely necessary in the crowds of the school on the way to class. He was terrified of being alone, and more than once John had gone down to the clubhouse in the morning to find Jim curled up and shivering on the orange blanket in some effort to be closer without "being a bother". No matter how many times John said, always over tea, that his cell phone was always on, Jim never called.

There was another thing that changed when Jim hit fourteen. It had also been happening gradually, but it was incredibly noticeable when it really hit. Jim had always been quiet. For as long as John had known him, really. He didn't really talk much unless he was comfortable with you, and even then he let you do a good portion of the talking unless he was upset about something. As he got older he talked less and less though, even to John. Eventually he was just a ghost in any sort of public setting and would only put in a few words in private. He never met anyone in the eye, and mostly tried to stay out of everyone's way. At school, especially, he tried avoiding people and only spoke when called on by a teacher.

Since they shared most of their classes despite John being two years older John noticed this change in behavior as it was happening. Despite the fact that it was slow there was an obvious difference between ten-year-old Jim and fourteen-year-old Jim. With this change of behavior there came more teasing, people saying that Jim was mute or just too stupid to talk. The glasses were thrown out some time between twelve and fourteen because of how people talked about those, and Jim never bothered with contacts which caused more teasing than the glasses themselves had. The court case was just whispers through the halls.

Obviously the connection and overall reason for the silence was this teasing, but John found he simply couldn't stop it. He tried talking with people and reasoning with them but they either couldn't or wouldn't listen. To them the younger teen who trailed behind one of the most well-liked people in the school was just a freak trying to be like everyone else. Nothing John said could change theirs minds.

Eventually it got so bad that Jim didn't say one word -not one monosyllabic phrase- for almost two weeks. The teachers finally noticed that something was amiss and tried to help, The school counselor got a grand total of five words in almost an hour, which was slightly better than what the teachers could force out in the form of answers in one class period.

John spent dozens of afternoons in Jim's bedroom drinking tea and doing homework, just trying to get his friend to talk. Worried questions got "I'm fine", asking for help on homework got brief written explanations, and any sort of confrontation was met with panic filled eyes and Jim all but fleeing on spot.

One time, when Jim had been off making tea (because there was still that bit of hope that tea would magically fix everything) that John had looked aimlessly around the room. It hadn't changed much over the years. The bed was a full instead of a twin, the bookcase was larger, and there was a small desk beside the door, but other than that it was very much the same.

Eventually John's eyes fell on a small, screwdriver-like object hidden under pages of extra credit homework. John stood up from his place on the floor, picking up the seemingly harmless object when his eyes widened. It wasn't just a screwdriver-like object, it was the screwdriver-like object.

Knowing Jim he knew full well about Ally and Kay. More than knew, he had met them. Just a couple years before Jim's silence. Never had John seen him as open as he had been around those two Guardians. Not a single stutter in sight.

And now, in his hands, was the tool to call the two greatest friends Jim had ever had. The two people who could get him to talk and open up with one uttered "Jim-boy". His finger hovered over the blue button, hand shaking. Tea couldn't solve anything, but they seemed to be able to.

Jim's Guardian Angels.

Before he had the chance the small device was ripped from his hands.

"Don't touch that!" Jim said angrily in what most would call a normal voice. John wasn't sure if that was an improvement or not, if only because of the look on the younger teens face.

Normally nervous features were undoubtedly twisted. Mouth formed in a scowl, eyes narrowed in a cold fury. There was something almost… reptilian to it. Like a snake that you had just crossed. It was, quite possibly, the most expressive Jim had been in months.

John raised his hands above his head, taking an automatic step back as his eyes widened in half-fear half-worry. "Why don't you just call them?" He asked quietly, voice soft and barely floating through the air.

And suddenly, just like it had come one, Jim was back to normal. His features smoothed and the almost-screwdriver fell limp to his side. His head dropped and brown eyes were wide and pleading as he glanced up. Please not to go, to not be upset. "Th-they won't-t c-c-come." He said quietly, placing the silver object back on the desk.

"Why? How are you so sure they won't?" John asked, one hand straying to a slim shoulder. Jim flinched, but didn't answer.

John wasn't entirely sure whether to count it as a failure or a success. On one hand Jim had actually spoken and expressed something other than a need to stay as out of the way as possibly. On the other the only emotion expressed was a pure, cold fury for a short moment and he didn't speak again for the rest of the night.

He took it as a half win.

A few days later he somehow managed to make it back before Jim because of a minor discussion about an oral report to class. He dashed up to the younger teens room, aware as always that neither Mrs. Moriarty (as Mrs. Hartford had gotten married to a woman named Margret Moriarty some odd years ago) was home. Jim didn't talk about it, so John didn't bring it up. You just didn't talk about your friends absent mother.

As quickly as he could he grabbed the silver almost-screwdriver, pressing the blue button. Not entirely sure what to do, he brought it up like one would a tape recorder. "Jim needs you," he said simply, hoping that they would still recognize his voice.

Almost instantly there was a pair of footsteps rushing up the steps and two professional looking teens hurried through the door. One was taller with brown hair that frizzed out a bit with a call phone in her hand, while the other was clearly younger with blond hair with one blue streak at the curly side bangs. Both looked equally frazzled.

"Who're you?" Said the one John thought was Kayley.

"What's wrong Jim-boy?" Said the other with the blue hair streak, who was logically Ally.

He blinked at the two of them, hearing the front door opening and closing from downstairs. "I'm John Watson." He said quickly, already taking his things and headed for the window. "And something is very wrong with Jim but I don't know what." In one flourished movement the window was open and he was half way out. "I was never here and you two just dropped by." He winked, his tongue clicking at the back of his throat, and dropped out the window.

Though he didn't know how, when he came by a few hours later with a weak excuse about Harry's girlfriend troubles, Jim was more alive than he had been in almost a year. His eyes sparkled, and he really talked with no stutter. It was the first time John had heard him be so passionate, and about something like art and painting no less. Jim had always been such an intellectual that his having an interest in the subject had never crossed John's mind, though he supposed it made sense.

What seemed like hours into the conversation John smiled, pulling his friend in to a quick hug. Jim stiffened as he always had, and probably always would, before pulling away with a confused look on his face.

"What was that for?" He asked in a tone more suited than if John had gone out and slapped him upside the head.

John shrugged, still smiling. "It's nice to see you like this. You haven't been talking much lately, not that you ever really did." He laughed, but Jim just glanced down at the floor, hands working nervously in his lap.

"I-I am sorry about that." He said quietly, glancing up like a scolded child. "I j-just… I just figured if n-no one wanted me to t-talk then I just w-wouldn't." He laughed nervously, the sound vibrating through the air. "S-stupid, right?"

John's smile seemed to shatter as it shrunk. "Oh Jim…" The blond said, looking down at the floor in the same place Jim was. "I'm sorry."

"W-why?" Jim asked, head snapping up. "I-it wasn't y-you fault. Just-t me being a-a freak."

Without hesitation John pulled him in again tightly, placing his chin on the shorter teens head. "But I didn't stop it, and I should have. I am sorry, Jim. I am."

Jim's breath hitched once, just once, and they pulled away simultaneously, and everything was back to normal.

{][][}

**A/N: One more chapter left! :O I'll be posting it some time this weekend. Considering it's already done, I mean...**

**Also, I realized it's only been a week since I posted chapter one. I feel oddly satisfied that this will be done a little over a week later, though I do wish I could have dragged it out more...**

**Oh well. That's what possible sequels are for, right? Right. :P**

**Anywho, I'll pop out of this A/N now. Ta ta. (Oh, and this was written at one in the morning and never looked over, so forgive the little things like typos and such. Thank you.)**

**~Piki :B**


	6. Chapter 5

Jimmy had talked to his two Guardian Angels on and off for over twenty years. They had helped him through a lot of tough times. From Seb and Carl, to his mum dying. A lot of times they would drop by unexpectedly at varying ages. Usually they were a bit older than him, but once he hit twenty that stopped. Now it was sort of random, and completely weird. One month he would be talking to a fifteen and sixteen year old, and the next they were twenty-four and twenty-five. Never older than thirty though. Not once had that happened, though Jim expected it was a long time coming.

He had also known John almost as long as his "imaginary friends" - or that's was what his therapist had called them when he was eighteen and Seb was getting out of prison. John had been one of the few constants in his life; a wall to keep him tethered instead of floating away in the crowd. They'd gone to the senior prom together (in and entirely friendly way, of course), moved to London together for university, had shared a flat once they both got a degree and steady jobs. Eighteen years of friendship between two boys from Sussex. Eventually, John decided he wanted to do something better, and went off and joined the army. He always came back between being stationed and after boot camp though, and Jim always had enough to pay the rent on the flat they still technically shared. They kept it together mostly because John liked having a steady place to come back to, and Jim didn't mind working the extra hours when he needed to. No, really, he still got enough sleep.

After being in the army for three years, John got stationed to Afghanistan. He was supposed to be there for two years and got a month in London before he was supposed to leave. Jim made the most of the time. They visited Harry and John's mum together, and spent the same long nights by the fire with a good cuppa like they always had. And then John left, and as the taxi left Jim slowly started to realize that he might not be coming back. That, in as little time as a few months, he could be going to his best friend's funeral.

It was also as that black cab (that looked far too much like a hearse from the back) drove off that Jim realized he wouldn't be able to afford the flat anymore. Times were getting harder, there were pay cuts down at Bart's, and paying the rent each month was getting harder and harder. He would simply have to move from the now homey two bedroom. In the part of his mind that was still a frightened little boy that thought everyone would leave him, he hoped John wouldn't mind. Losing a friend by death was hard enough, but if that friend _chose to leave you_ it was even harder.

That night he told his landlady -a lovely old woman who had been cutting him a deal for far too long- that he would be finding a new flat at the end of the week, and not to worry because he knew just the person who would love the place. Molly, bless her heart, already had a future flat mate and had been looking for the proper place for quite some time. She would like it. Big enough for two and Mrs. Thomson didn't mind pets. The miniature corgi would be welcomed with open arms.

It was only long after he had seen the cab drive off, the image burned in to his mind, did he register that he was alone. Not completely alone, of course; he still had acquaintances and colleagues. However, there wasn't anyone he was particularly close to anymore. John had been the only person he had let in other than Ally and Kay, and now he was going off to get shot at.

Jim was, essentially, alone in London. No close friends near by anymore, his family was either distant or dead, and he was too nervous and shy for anyone to _consider_ being his friend out of anything other than pity, and once they found out about his brain… Well, it all went down hill from there. He was either a sideshow freak, or the weird guy from IT who never took a lunch break.

With this thought in mind, he walked slowly through the small flat, eyes roaming over surfaces as he figured out what he could pack and what could be placed in storage. It suddenly occurred to him how much of the things in the flat had been John's. The throw pillows, most of the décor (minus one chair), the odd knick knacks and books lying about. All John's. The only thing of Jim's was a small chemistry set kept in the bedroom and a few of the mugs.

The young man sighed heavily, pouring himself a glass of cheap wine that had only been brought out twice. John had been the one to buy it despite Jim's protests that he didn't need it (he had been on a tight budget at the time, only buying food when absolutely necessary and not buying anything not important for survival), and they had shared it after buying and before the doctor went to boot camp.

He plopped himself down in his chair, the red wine swirling in its glass. Jim didn't drink in excess, though he couldn't help but think this would be the only time he did. He stared at the empty fireplace, watching the coals slowly die out. He had never once lit that fire, not for as long as they had been in uni and had bought the flat. He chuckled to think why.

When he and John had first moved in, they had been broke. They both worked whatever job they could find (John was a store clerk at Harrods and Jim got a small thing at a local flower shop) and were working their way to a degree on tuition and praying. The flat had been dirt cheap at the time, but they still couldn't afford any extra bills. They lived off beans, toast, and hobnobs and didn't use any utilities unless absolutely necessary, let alone turn up the heating.

Winter had rolled around a lot faster than either of them had expected, used to Sussex weather as they were. John, with a seemingly endless supply of jumpers, didn't bother with turning up the heat. Jim had grabbed whatever clothes he had and packed up, so the best he had were t-shirts and thin hoodies. Still, he refused to turn up the heat and down right scoffed at the thought of using the fireplace, and instead suffered in silence with a cuppa clutched in his hand.

John, knowing full well how his friend could get when his mind was dead set on something no matter how his body protested, had placed the wood in the fireplace, laying the comforter from his own bed over his half-asleep flat mate, and lit up the fire. When Jim woke up he was warm, well rested despite a crick in his neck, and there was a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table waiting for him with a post-it note attached,

_You either get yourself some warmer clothes or I will turn on the damn heating, I don't care how much it costs. I'm not letting you kill yourself._

_~John_

Jim still didn't get those jumpers, nor did he turn up the heat, but John always lit the fire for him. Even after they were out of uni and had better paying jobs John was still the one to always light the fireplace, never Jim, even if the heat was actually on for once.

The dark haired man smiled slightly, taking a small sip of his wine, before the air of depression fell back down on him. If he moved there wouldn't be any more fireside conversations, or stubborn refusals to turn on the heat. If, _when_, John got back he'd probably find a new flat mate anyway instead of going back to Jim. The warm hearted doctor deserved better than someone like him. Quiet, scared of being left alone, no spine, he let people walk all over him, and he always acted like such an _idiot_. He still didn't see why John put up with him.

_Had_ put up with him.

"Stop being so irrational," he muttered to himself, Irish accent already thickening with the small amount of alcohol. "He's stayed with you this long, he's not just going to leave you when he gets back. You've known him for eighteen years; he wouldn't do that to you." He took another sip from the wine glass, and was surprised to find that it was empty already. He honestly hadn't thought he'd drained the glass yet.

Dull brown eyes roamed over the fireplace again and landed on a single object. It was laying on the mantelpiece that John had picked out innocently, almost staring out in to the Spartan room. It was one of the few earlier mentioned things of Jim's scattered around the flat. It was silver, with a green light that hadn't flashed in ages and a blue button on the other end and was shaped oddly like a screwdriver handle. He never did find out what it was called.

Before he fully realized what was happening he got up, grabbing the small object and pressing the blue button. "Take your time," he muttered into the microphone he had long since figured out was there. "I'm in no hurry. I-I… I just need to talk." Ally and Kay were, quite possibly, the only people he didn't really stutter to when he spoke. With almost everyone else in the world, including John, he was constantly tripping over himself, worried he would say the wrong thing. He didn't have that worry with his Guardians, and hopefully never would.

Mere moments later there was a knock at the door. Jim stared down into his empty wine glass, placing the screwdriver-like object back on the mantle and going back to his chair. "It's open!" He called, knowing exactly who it was.

There was a click, and the door slowly slid open. As though trying not to disturb the heavy atmosphere, his two friends walked in and the door creaked shut.

"Jim-boy?" Ally said questioningly, walking into the sitting room with a trepidatious air about her that clashed horribly with the personality Jim knew so well. She was in her early twenties this time, maybe five years younger than himself, which would place Kay at around twenty-four. "Jim-boy, what's wrong?"

Not having the energy to work up a smile for the Angel, he sunk deeper into the chair as Kay came into view. "John's gone."

He could practically see the insensitive comments running through Ally's mind. That was one of her bigger faults. Even though she never said her automatic thoughts out loud, you could always see them flittering through her eyes. Or maybe that was just Jim seeing things.

"What do you mean John's gone?" Kay asked, sitting down at her usual spot in John's chair. Just like clockwork, Ally went and grabbed the swivel chair from the desk and rolled it over, taking a seat beside her partner and friend. Jim shrugged half heartedly in response to the query. "I mean, I know John went into the…"

She trailed off, understanding flashing through her eyes. Ally looked down and away, blond hair falling over her face.

"Afghanistan of Iraq?" Ally said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. _Damnable question_, her face read.

"A-Afghanistan." Jim managed to get out, feeling himself choking up. Neither of them made a move to get up, for which Jim was grateful. He didn't think he would be able to stand it at that moment. Probably burst in to tears with how he was.

He must have blinked or nodded or something, because the next thing he new the wine glass was being taken from his limp hand and replaced with a mug of tea. Another blink, and Ally and Kay were across from him again, matching blue mugs in their hands. Ally smiled slightly, looking down into the light brown liquid fondly.

"Do you remember," she began, eyes going wistful with knowledge beyond her years. "When we gave you two dancing lessons for your prom? Cutest damn thing I've ever seen, you two tripping over each other and John acting like you'd break if he so much as moved wrong, let alone hurt you by accident."

Jim smiled back despite himself. "We danced on the wall all day." He replied with a smirk.

"Gotta love how the gravity shifts from room to room." Kay said with a nod, taking a polite sip of her tea. "Most of those doors lead to nowhere in ole Forty-Two."

"What were the directions you gave us to that ballroom while trying to find "proper" tap shoes?" He mused. "Up the stairs, twice. Take a left, down the hall, another left, then a right-"

"-And it's the second door up." The three friends said in unison.

Ally snorted as she giggled into her mug. "We got rid of that door, by the by. Much too inconvenient."

Jim rolled his eyes in response. "Not as "inconvenient" as suddenly being flung on to a wall to find out that it's the floor. Very disconcerting, those minor shifts in gravity."

And that was how they spent the night. They looked over the past blips and visits, ignoring all the bad times and leaving only the good. Jim had never realized how many of his good memories involved Kay and Ally and John, or just John. He even told them about how John had just about snogged him senseless after getting very, _very_ drunk while out with friends. A very good experience, if you asked Jim. He had always harbored a bit of a crush on his friend.

At some point in time he must have fallen asleep, because when morning rolled around there a blanket that still smelled like John over him, and a cup of tea on the end table beside him. Everything else looked untouched, except there was a small note in a familiar scrawl beside the tea, and it certainly wasn't from Ally or Kay.

_Jimmy,_

_Ally and Kay just dropped by in the plane. Lot of fun explaining that. "No, ma'am, I have no idea why there is suddenly a blue police box down by the luggage." "Sir, it had a nametag with your name on it looped around the handle." "Doesn't mean it's mine." "Sorry, we're with him. I just grabbed his tag by accident and put it on our TARDIS model." I don't know why, but they seemed to think it was a bomb. Must have been the fact that the light kept flashing whenever someone tried to touch it._

He smiled, picturing exactly what John would do. Probably hurry to explain himself while Ally and Kay hopped in, and then told the flight attendant that, yes miss, you were hallucinating. I've been trying to calm you down for the past ten minutes, ask anyone.

_Anyway, that's not why I'm writing this. You know this isn't the end, right Jim? I'll be gone for a year, two at the most, but I refuse to die over here (there?). Not while you're still alive and breathing. I wouldn't do that to you._

_And get all those stupid notions of me coming back home and completely ignoring the fact they you've been my friend for almost twenty years out of your head. (You talk in your sleep, by the way.) I wouldn't forget that, and I certainly wouldn't stop being friends with you through my own choice. For being so brilliant, Jim, you've got to work on some things. Use those deduction skills, man! You are the single greatest friend I have ever had, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Not fame, not wealth, not eternal life._

_While we're on this subject, I'm fine with you having to move out of the flat. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't earlier. You think I don't see your checkbook when I come and visit? That is a lot of red ink my friend, and you've been getting scrawny as a stick from trying to skip meals just to pay for the rent each month. I mean, you've always been thin, but now it's just getting ridiculous. I was able to feel your ribs when I hugged you for God's sake! You are lucky I know you so well or I'd think you were anorexic. Buy a smaller, cheaper flat, maybe get a flat share if you have to, just eat already. No matter what you may think, your survival is rather important to me, and I'd rather you stay alive than have that flat to come home to. It's not that great anyway. The heating -when we do use it- is temperamental and electric goes out far too much during the spring. Get a nicer place that you can afford. And food. Don't forget food. Maybe pasta? Your stomach might not be able to handle anything heavy considering you've all but starved yourself._

_Well, the flight attendant is starting to get bitchy about the "TARDIS". I'll write soon, okay? And actual letter instead of Guardian mail express. I'll try to whenever I can. Promise._

_Sincerely,_

_John_

If there was one thing that Jim knew about John, something he was more sure of than anything else, it was that he did not sign "sincerely" on a letter of any sort unless he really meant what he said in it. It was kind of nice knowing that John cared that much. More than anyone else did, anyway. He wondered how long it would last. It made sense when they were kids, because John still acted like the new kid in class and everyone thought he was just plain odd, and parents warned their children away from the Watson's. As teenagers Jim was awkward and John was the only person that could get him to talk. The two of them sharing a flat during uni was logical. If Jim moved out… well, it wouldn't make sense for someone like John to be friends with someone like him.

He shook the thoughts from his head stubbornly, and went to wash out the mugs from last night.

{][**End**][}

**A/N: Something funny; I've actually had this chapter done almost as long as chapter 1 (the actual chapter one, not the prologue). I finished it just before I put up chapter two (which was why chapter two was delayed).**

**O_O Just realized something. SECOND COMPLETED FIC! *throws small party for people who reviewed* And it's the first completed fic with more than three chapters. I have this warm fuzzy feeling now. ^_^ Is that how some of you guys feel when you finish a fanfic, or am I just weird like that? Aw well. I finished something, complete with five chapter, a prologue, and a sequel!**

**For those of you who are wondering, no, you will never see Ally and Kay giving our duo dancing lessons on the "wall". No, really. I mean it this time. *puts foot down to plot bunnies* Not gonna happen. When the sequel is formed you will get to see the ballroom though. (For people wondering, by "up the stairs twice" I mean you literally go up the same set of stairs twice. Do it once and you're screwed.)**

**The sequel is on the way. I want to get a few chapters done first.**

**~Piki :B**


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